Human
by Rosaliebyrd13
Summary: "Rage rage against the dying of the light." Isabella has raged against the dying of the light. But now she is tired,and back in Forks, Washington, trying to figure out her life. There she meets Edward, who needs reminding of what Humanity is. Read&Review
1. Prologe

Prologue

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

You do not know what it is to rage against the dying of the light. You do not know because it is an experience not spoken of by those who know it. And if you knew it you would not be reading these words now. They – we who raged against the dying of the light – are a brotherhood, united by a strand of light that we have fought tirelessly to preserve. You do not know what it is to rage against the dying of the light. You do not know, and I will not try to tell you.

What I will tell you is what I know, and what I am able to put into words.

The rest you'll have to figure out on your own.

There is one more thing you must understand before you read this: I am not recording a tale of bravery and selflessness. There is nothing noble in the telling of my tale, nor in the events that occurred in it. There was no honor in what took place that day. That is the thing you will protest most, I know it because that is the thing that others before you have most disputed. But believe me, there was no honor in us that day, not in our hearts, not in our thoughts, not in our actions. Not a man, woman, or child among us committed a single honorable act. We did just what would keep ourselves alive. Our families, friends too.

If you can understand that which I have just told you, then the following story will seem less like a hero's boast and more like a confession. That is the way it was meant though. I am confessing.

You do not know what it is to rage against the dying of the light. But I do.


	2. Hogwarts, Glances at Life Before

My first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry began with dementors searching the train for mass murderer Sirius Black.

No. That's wrong.

It began first with a kiss goodbye from my mum, and a pat on the head from Phil, my step-father. On the train I found a compartment with three other kids. Violet was a fellow first year, Collin and Bartholomew were second years. Violet was only allowed to sit with the boys because she was Bartholomew's little sister, but they seemed okay with letting me sit with them as well.

It was thirty minutes later that the dementors stopped the train to look for Sirius Black.

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

Violet and I were sorted into separate houses. I knew that it really didn't matter that much, that we had only met on the train ride to school and couldn't be soul sisters that quickly, and if we really were meant to be best friends separate houses really didn't matter much, but still. In a matter of minutes I had already lost the single friend I had made.

"Swan, Isabella"

_I'm thinking Gryffindor_ the hat announced, as though asking my opinion.

_I'm not that brave. I'm small and quiet and I'm not good at making friends. And I'm especially not brave._ It was true, I wasn't brave or noble or reckless or foolhardy or any of the things I had heard about Gryffindors. I felt like I had to let the hat know that, just in case it was having trouble seeing for itself.

_But you will be_ the hat replied.

"GRYFFINDOR!" was followed by a roar of approval. I chanced a quick glance at Violet sitting at the Slytherin table between two other first years, and grinned at the wink she threw me.

~*^*%~*^*~*^*~

END OF YEAR ONE

~*^*~*^*~*%^*~

My second year started off with a squeeze of my shoulder from my mum and a stern nod from Phil (try not to get into too much mischief this year Isabella).

Once on the train I found the compartment where seven of my friends were already seated, practically on top of each other. Winifred, Madison, and Fayge, all fellow second year Gryffindors and all my roommates and had managed to squeeze themselves in a spot made to comfortably fit one. Helen, a witty Ravenclaw was spread out on the seat across from them, her feet resting in Will's (Hufflepuff) lap. On the floor Jack and Cody, twin second years (one in Ravenclaw one inGryffindor) played a raucous game of exploding snap. I chose the seat by Helen and Will, lifting my feet into his lap as well, due to the occupied nature of the floor. The friends I hadn't believed I'd make back at the beginning of first year greeted me loudly, and we spent the rest of the train ride eating candy and playing cards, being as loud as possible.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

When the Triwizard tournament was announced Winifred, Madison, Fayge, and I spent an entire night staring at the ceiling, discussing eternal glory and what we would do with it

"I don't really want to be on a chocolate frog card." Was my response. "I'd just like to prove to myself I could do something that fantastic. That I'm not just some accidental Gryffindor, that I _can_ do something cool and brave and stupid."

The rest of the girls all agreed that I sounded like a character out of a muggle novel. An especially whimsical character out of a muggle novel.

("Imagine it!" Fayge exclaimed, "Isabella Swan doesn't want fame and fourtune, she just wants to prove her worth in a world where men dominate and women are left to have babies" The words were dramatic and floaty, and we all giggled some more.)

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

When it came to the tasks, there wasn't a whole lot to watch after the first one with the dragons.

And all of the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang were years older than us as well, not at all interested in hanging out with us _babies_.

But when it came to the ball, with the dancing and beautiful dresses, we snuck out of our rooms and gathered at windows and doors, pressing our faces against the glass to watch the older students have the night of their lives.

Later a large group of us gathered in a spare classroom and threw a party all our own, with cards and games and music and towards the end a muggle movie that astounded all. ("It's like they can do magic!") And it was the best night, despite the fact that there were no elegant dresses and string orchestras.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

None of us even knew who Cedric Diggory was until he became a champion. And then everybody knew who he was, though they didn't know him. We girls fancied ourselves in love with him. Every boy imagined what it would be like to be his younger brother.

And then Harry Potter dragged Cedric Diggory's body out of the maze.

Things seemed to blur together and speed up after that. The professors tried to hustle all of us younger students back to the dormitories as we felt the cold chill of the dementors on the air.

Below, in the ring where the Triwizard champion was supposed to stand victorious, lay a dead Cedric Diggory.

~*^*%~*^*~*^*~

The next day Dumbledore announced that You-Know-Who had returned.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

END OF YEAR TWO

~*^*~*^*~*%^*~

Third year began with me pulling out of my mother's desperate hug, standing stiffly in Phil's embrace.

On the train I found a compartment and sat to wait for my friends. This time, by the time the train left the station, there were twelve of us jammed into one compartment and everyone really was on top of each other. It wasn't as loud and hysterical as the last year though. Really we were all sitting together to share what little we each knew. Together we constructed what was really going on in the magical world and what was fiction. Tommy knew of attacks on muggles that hadn't been in the papers, and Rachel knew that the stories of large possessed carnivores coming out of the woods to eat people were not true at all. Grace added in what her mother had overheard in the Ministry secretarial pool, and Jack and Cody knew that more cursed objects were turning up in the worst places. Quietly, Fayge whispered about her Bubbe's concerns that this tumult would lead to a wizarding holocaust. None of us had known what to say to that. (Everybody knew that Fayge's Bubbe was a muggle and that she had a strange string of numbers on her arm that meant something horrible in the muggle world. Fayge had told us, late one night before we last left school, about how the muggle's had their own You-Know-Who. What can you say to that?) So we didn't say anything.

And then Mitchel announced that a teacup had bit his nose his first day back from school_. Must be the work of you-know-who_ Danny muttered. Winifred stated that she would be glad for the Death Eaters to whisk away her horrible cousins so that she didn't have to see them over the summer. Jack and Cody each made cases for why Death Eaters should be put to work de-gnoming their mother's garden immediately. ("Imagine it" "They'd be ruthless" "And we'd-" "-never have to-" "-de-gnome the garden-" "-ever again!" "Little buggers would be too terrified to come back!" "Problem solved! Death Eaters should just become de-gnomers!")

We spent the rest of the ride like that, making up the most ridiculous stories, scenarios. What else could we do?

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

The first time I met with Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Himself, she offered me tea and a proposition of sorts.

It started with the standard _Isabella Swan! My my you've grown since last I saw you. _And then progressed to _I know your mother of course, lovely woman, naturally beautiful and absolutely… charming. _Which turned into_ It is a pity about her dating habits though. Muggle men, of all things! _

I had met people before who disapproved of my mother's taste in men. She liked them younger, fit, and most scandalously of all, muggle. Phil fit all three of those ideals to a tee. For me though, it had quickly become a fact of life: the sky was blue, my father was an American, and my mother always brought home muggle men. Most of them didn't last long, mum worked odd hours and had strange fascinations with odd things which inevitably led to the flavor of the month requiring a memory charm and a change of address, not necessarily in that order. Except for Phil. He was looking more and more like a permanent fixture in our lives.

Despite my dismay (and disapproval) of my mother's tendencies, I could not fathom how any of it was the Professor's (or the Ministry's) business.

Then Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Himself, said one more thing: _Darling Isabella, I realize how you must worry about your mother while you are here at school. I'm willing to do you a … hem hem… favor. I will keep an eye on your mother and her … hem hem… habits if you are willing to set an example for your classmates. Really all it requires is that you follow my every instruction with a bounce in your step and a smile in your voice. _

The tea tasted far too sweet, and so was her voice. Later, I'm sure, I thought of myself as rebellious when I replayed the final words of my only civil conversation with Dolores Jane Umbridge in my head.

"No, Professor, I don't think that's necessary, thank you."

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

Looking back now, I realize just how naïve I was about the cruelties of the world.

~*^*%~*^~*^*~

"Care to join me for a walk, Bella?"

Collin Creevey and I were not best friends. Generally we ran in similar groups, knew most of the same people, but we didn't hang around each other very much. Once or twice we had talked about our fathers. Collin's was a muggle milk man in London, mine was a muggle police chief in a tiny American town. Mostly though, that was the beginning and the end of our common ground.

But I still said yes when he asked me for a walk.

I said yes when he asked me to attend a meeting.

And I signed my name below his on the paper that Hermione Granger provided for us.

A week and a half later I attended my fist ever Dumbledor's Army meeting.

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

My roommates thought I was being whimsical again, fighting against the evil injustice and oppression of the school hierarchy.

"It's unnecessary Isabella," Winifred had sighed, "As much as I love a good conflict, I just don't see this as being something too important. We're only third years, we're not even supposed to know that much yet. I understand the fifth years being upset, they've got O.W.L.s, but we've got years to master this stuff!"

I knew she didn't mean anything personally by it, that was just the way Winifred was.

"I find it all very exciting! Bella's gone off to join a secret society, and soon she'll be risking her life for the free world!" Madison leapt off of her bed, gesturing grandly with her arms, the floaty quality that all three of my best friends loved to use when they talked about me and my whimsical persuasions in her voice. In that moment I imagined that she was Wendy from Peter Pan, in her white nightgown and about to tell stories and fight muggle madmen.

"You'll learn new things, spells we couldn't even dream of. You'll teach them to us, won't you?"

I nodded, and Fayge smiled. "Good. Try not to get us all in trouble Isabella!"

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

"Try not to get us all in trouble Isabella!"

Fayge's words echoed in my head.

My hand stung and itched. Burned. All around me we other hands, also stinging. In front of me was a parchment covered in my own elegant scrawl.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

The words on the page were crimson.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

The back of my hand was crimson.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

For the tenth night in a row I flipped the parchment over, continued my lines on the back.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

By the tenth night I didn't even need to pay attention to the words. My writing had become loose, free. The words were forever burned into my mind, and without paying attention I could write in straight lines, with evenly spaced words and perfect letters.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

If anything the endless line writing was improving my penmanship.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

Around me other students were doing the same.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

My hand burned, and the smell of the crimson ink was making me sick, light headed.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

I started a new line, my last one for the night.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

Fresh crimson coated the back of my hand.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

Winifred, Madison, and Fayge were up in the room, waiting for me to return.

_I must not rebel against the wisdom of my betters._

"Try not to get us all into trouble Isabella!"

At least it was only me.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

It was a week after the end of the line writing punishment that Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecratery to the Minister Himself and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, disappeared, suddenly and with no official explanation.

There were plenty of rumors of course. When Neville was released from the hospital wing (after an epic adventure that was detailed in the morning Prophet and fleshed out by short comments made by the fabulous six) he felt it was his duty to detail exactly what became of poor Professor Umbridge.

Naturally she was carried away by centaurs.

The D.A. held a party in the centaurs' honor, and in memory of Sirius Black, the not-so-mass-murdering mass murderer that had lost his life battling with the Order of the Phoenix against evil. There was alcohol and toasts and weeping and rejoicing. Harry Potter did not attend.

~*^*~*^*~*%^*~

Five and a half days after being carried off by centaurs, Dolores Jane Umbrige was returned to the hospital wing, shaking uncontrollably and unable to express herself through words.

Naturally the entire D.A. went to visit her, making sure to click our tongues, whinny and neigh a bit as we passed by her bed.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

END OF YEAR THREE

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

It was strange, but the start of fourth year was calm, almost normal.

On the train we crowded into our usual compartment, and once the trolley had come by we had a massive pile of sweets to choose from as we gossiped about our summers.

Will had run into a nasty case of U No Poo, courtesy of his younger brother, and had retaliated by permanently dying Ethan's hair a brilliant shade of puce. Fayge went to Russia with her parents and came back with a brand new owl named Natasha and a lovely new coat. Jack and Cody had spent most of the holidays at Mitchel's house, and Winifred had gotten a job in muggle London and fallen in love with a busboy named Harvey McMilligan.

It was around this time that Hector, my mother's latest attempt at a birthday gift, decided to come out of his pocket in my bag to mingle, which sparked a lengthy conversation about Pygmy Puffs and what they could actually do. Hector was only too happy to demonstrate his finding skills, and his little monkeyish face lit up with what I could only assume to be joy each time I asked for a pen or a button or candy and he returned with a sock.

For the remainder of the trip we strayed from subject to subject, always keeping it light and happy.

It was almost as though everything was right in the world, and there was no storm to be seen on the horizon.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

Life continued on, despite the dark things printed in the Prophet.

Every morning at breakfast the paper was passed from student to student. If we received a letter from home with news, that was passed along too. One of the Ravenclaws got an American newspaper, and there were two Hufflepuffs who got muggle newspapers from home. Fayge's Bubbe sent her news from Eastern Europe, and Raj Farah's father sent him the news from local papers in Kenya. Together the papers and stories wove a massive tapestry, and we students did our best to put all the events together before passing it on.

News of disappearances grew more frequent and sightings of You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters were on the rise as well.

Despite all of that (or perhaps _in_ spite of all that) we continued to laugh and joke and read celebrity gossip columns. Witch Weekly continued to award its annual Most Charming Smile title to Gilderoy Lockhart, who was "charmingly simple in his tastes and conversation."

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

On the 30th of June, around 9 o'clock at night, my D.A. Galleon began to burn and vibrate.

At the time I didn't realize that answering the call of a fake Galleon for a student's study group would get me in history books. At the time I thought the call meant something small, trivial.

I was wrong.

Responding to the Galleon meant a mouthful of luck potion and an assignment to patrol the staircases in sleep shorts and my father's police academy sweatshirt.

Responding to the Galleon meant that when Death Eaters started to swarm the staircase from a fifth floor corridor, one other student and I were the only things standing between them and their destination. It also meant that Ernie was knocked out cold and I was thrown over a banister onto another flight of stairs about a story down.

Responding to the Galleon meant that what seemed like moments after the Death Eaters ran up the stairs they started running down them again, and to the Great Hall. I was dragged maybe half a flight of stairs by my hair before the masked man decided that I was too much dead weight.

Responding to the Galleon that night meant that later, in the hospital wing, I was told that I was extraordinarily lucky to have made it out with only a few crushed ribs, a punctured lung, a dislocated hip, and a broken nose.

Later, after all the hubbub had died down, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, and Ron all gathered around my bed. Introductions were made as we all grasped hands and inquired after each other. I wasn't really friends with any of them, not back then at least, but we shared a sort of camaraderie that comes only from fighting with people against a common enemy.

~*^*%~*^*~*^*~

I was allowed out of the hospital wing just in time for Dumbledor's funeral. The next day my mother sent her house elf Maizy to collect me and my things.

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

END OF YEAR FOUR

**AN: Hey Guys, I hope you enjoyed! Originally Bella's Hogwarts years were going to be one giant chapter, but that plan quickly fell apart when my wordcount passed 4,000! So now it's split up, and the next chapter should be up soon! **

**Please Review!**


	3. The Final Year

"I'm sorry Ms. Antoinette, but your daughter does not have the clearance necessary to leave the country at this time." The head of the Department of International Magical Transportation was practically shaking behind his mustache as my mother stared him down.

So far though his stance had been clear and unwavering: I was not to be allowed out of the country to stay with my father for the summer.

In fact, I was not to be let out of the country at all.

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

Midway through the summer, the Ministry Fell. Two weeks later my mother and I queued up for registration. Her new identification card red pureblood traitor. I was told that I would receive mine on the train to school.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

When it came time for me to return to Hogwarts, Phil was not permitted to travel with us to the train station and mum was not allowed past the barrier. So instead I hugged her in the middle of all the bustling muggles, trying to hold down my tears.

"I love you Isabella. No matter what, I will always love you."

"I love you mum."

And then my flighty erratic, spontaneous mother looked me right in the eye and said the most serious words of her life.

"Don't let them change you, Isabella."

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

The train ride to Hogwarts had never been so dull.

Gone were the spacious compartments and the elderly witch with the candy trolley. Gone were the comfy seats and the laughter that had before ushered in a new school year.

We sat sorted by house, and then by blood purity, and then by year on long, hard wooden benches.

There was no talking. There was no food, and no lavatories.

We all changed robes at once, in front of each other.

Half way to school, a Death Eater, one I recognized from my scuffle on the stairs, handed out IDs. Each had our picture, our name, our parent's names, our description, and our blood status. We were to keep them on us at all times.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

"My name is Severus Snape, and I am your headmaster.

"Each of you is here because the Dark Lord believes you are worthy enough to study and learn magic. It is your duty to prove that worth.

"This means that each of you has been given an opportunity not to be wasted. You were born superior to the muggle filth that dirty our world, and you have the chance to remain superior. The Dark Lord has masterful plans, but the new world he is creating for us belongs only to the best and the brightest, only to the most worthy. If you are deemed unworthy, you will be cast aside. The Dark Lord has no use for weaklings.

"Follow his orders, obey his command, and you will remain with the superior. You are here at Hogwarts for no other reason than to better yourself for the service of the Dark Lord. Without him, you are worthless. Without him you will perish."

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

The second week of school my hands were sewn together for not speaking about You-Know-Who in the proper tone. _So that you can pray for forgiveness from our most merciful Dark Lord._

Later in the common room Jack pulled out all of the threads while Winifred held me still.

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

It was a little over a month later that my hands were nailed to the top of my desk.

A braver Gryffindor might have continued to taunt Amycus Carrow.

(It was easy enough to do; Amycus Carrow was inbred almost to the point of being classified profoundly handicapped.)

But I was not brave, and so I screamed when the spikes were driven into my hands, and cried in great gasping sobs for the rest of the class.

This time it was Neville who stayed behind to pull out the spikes and heal my hands as Helen held my shaking frame.

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

After that I tried to keep my head down and out of the line of fire.

I did not succeed for very long.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

It was stupid to agree to such a task, but when my fake Galleon buzzed and heated I replied.

Both Ginny and Luna had not returned from Christmas holidays. Neville was nowhere to be found. So I took it upon myself to sneak into the hospital wing for a bottle of blood-replenisher while Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil stayed with the little pale first year, trying their best to keep him calm.

When a Slytherin seventh year caught me his friends held me down while he pulled off my toes one by one. I passed out mercifully quickly.

Madame Pomfrey told me later, as she reattached them, that my toes and I were found outside of the hospital wing in a pile.

I returned to the common room with a cup of the potion two hours too late.

Seamus Finnegan took it upon himself to write the little boy's parents.

I didn't tell anyone about my toes.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

Life at Hogwarts became something of a game of tag. Except for instead of tagging people, we were scrawling graffiti across the corridor walls and maiming each other.

The teams were unclear, territories were hard to define, but the one thing agreed on was that the hospital wing was safe. It was an unspoken rule that if we could make it to the hospital wing we wouldn't be attacked.

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

We threw a party for Winifred's sixteenth birthday in the room of requirement complete with streamers, whiskey, and cake.

Everybody danced and laughed, and for the entire night we were just another group of teenagers.

We played would you rather, truth or dare, and spin the bottle, all muggle games that Collin had told us about. I ended up kissing a sixth year Hufflepuff I had never spoken to before and doing the chicken dance while suspended by my heel from the ceiling.

It was the best night I had had in a long time.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

The next day I found Fayge in our room after she failed to show up at dinner. She was crying in the bathroom, hunched over the sink, scrubbing furiously at the inside of her forearm.

_I'm Jewish._ She cried. _I'm Jewish and I didn't think they even knew what that means, but they did, they do and now…_

I held her tight as we both cried over the string of numbers on the inside of her arm. Just like I had seen on her Bubbe's arm.

_It's not like it's that big of a deal, I'm not dead and they don't own me, and I've got my entire life ahead of me, but it's so… degrading. _

We cried together on the tile floor until Winifred and Madison came back, and then we all cried together.

It could've been hours later when Winifred wiped her eyes furiously before pulling up the sleeve of her school blouse. We all watched, horrified, as she took out her wand and began, carefully, carving numbers into her own arm.

"Winifred stop!" I whispered harshly, but she pulled away from me.

"No Isabella." She admonished. "You are not the only one capable of doing stupid things and acting recklessly." Then she turned to Fayge, who's sniffling had calmed some. "So you're Jewish? Well guess what? I like jam on toast without butter, so I'm just as uncivilized as you!"

Madison was next. Her tanned forearm shook a bit as she gave herself a line of numbers. "Well I have never liked pumpkin juice and sometimes I do my homework with a ball point pen, so screw you!"

When she was finished I pulled up my own sleeve. "My father is a muggle and my mum's a blood traitor, and sometimes when I'm bored during the summer I go to the cinema to see a film. So I too find myself on the blacklist!"

By the end of it we were hysterical.

For the next week we all went out with our sleeves rolled up to our elbows.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

The snow had just melted when I was called to Snape's office. The password was _Purity_, and by the time I got to his great oak doors, I was ready to vomit. In the pit of my heart I knew something was wrong.

"We were hoping you could assist us Isabella,"Alecto Carrow's voice sounded babyish with unpracticed sweetness. "Your mother is engaging in behavior unfit for her status and rank. You alone are enough proof of that."

"She is embarrassing her family and her blood. The conduct she is exhibiting cannot be tolerated, you must understand," Amycus Carrow continued.

I didn't see my mother in the corner of the room until she made a noise. It was an animal keen, one of deep pain and fear. With that noise any courage I might have ever possessed was gone. And then I saw Phil rotating slowly midair above the headmaster's desk, bleeding out of his ears and moaning softly.

"She might be forgiven if she kills that filthy consort of hers, that mangy muggle. He is not worthy to lick the dirt from her boots, yet she says she loves him. Every night she fucks him, and in the morning they parade around the town as though there is nothing sick or perverse about them."

"She is pureblood though, and so she might be able to save herself."

"Tell me, Isabella, what would you like to say to mummy about her conduct?"

In the corner my mother cried. Above us Phil floated upside down, I don't think he was really aware of what was going on.

I kept myself silent.

That was my first big mistake. A cruciatus later I was on my knees, gasping for breath.

"Come now Isabella, don't you want it to stop? You don't have to be in pain. Tell mummy what she needs to do to make it stop."

I didn't even have the chance to respond.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

Professor Snape sat serenely behind his great desk as the Carrow siblings demanded I tell my mother to kill Phil. Behind him the portraits hurled curse words and wailed. The portrait of Professor Dumbledore wept.

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

Hours later, I'm told, Dennis Creevey found me shirtless in front of the portrait hole.

_No mummy, don't do it! Please mummy run!_

I remember vaguely lying in the middle of the common room floor, surrounded by crying and panic.

_Mummy make them stop, please make it stop!_

Professor McGonagall was summoned, and so was Madame Pomfrey.

_I'm sorry I'm sorry! Just make it stop!_

Over time the burning fire across my abdomen lessened and I was able to sleep.

When I next woke up, the words that the Carrows had carved into me were legible.

_Blood Traitor Whore_

"So that you'll never forget your dear mummy."

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

It might have been the next day that Professor McGonagall was told my mother and step-father were dead.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

Three nights later, once I had finally stopped taking the pain potion that knocked me out for hours on end, Winifred, Madison, Fayge and I stayed up talking the whole night. It was like we were back in second year, talking about eternal glory.

"What'll you do when the war is over?" Madison asked us.

"I'll buy colorful sundresses and giant floppy brimmed hats like you see fine ladies at the muggle racetrack wear. Then I'll parade up and down the street and everyone will think I'm someone important." Fayge replied.

"I'm going to meet a boy, and we'll have a whirlwind romance. Every morning he'll kiss me goodbye and every evening he'll bring me flowers and I'll make him supper. And we'll have sex at random times throughout the day, just because we can. And he'll be a muggle. We'll have tons of children and each and every one of them will be little halfblooded blood traitors and they will each go out into the world and marry muggleborns and such and _their_ children will be little shames to You-Know-Who's regime," Winifred sighed.

"That's beautiful Winnie!" Madison laughed darkly. "I'm going to fly in an airplane around the world, with no stops. I'm going to stand on the Great Wall of China, I'm going to hang off the very top of the Eiffel tower, and I'm going to do a dance on top of the statue of liberty. And when all that's finally said and done, I'm going to come back here to finish my education."

"I'm going to eat greasy, fattening, fast food for dinner every night. I'm going to sleep in until 10 every morning, and every Friday I'm going to go to a cinema to see a different movie. I'm going to read whimsical muggle novels about people with stubborn romantic notions and heaving bosoms. I'm going to study science, which is the art of muggles lying to each other to convince themselves that magic doesn't really exist." I stated. "And somewhere along the way, I'm going to find someone completely untrustworthy and I'm going to break the International Statute of Secrecy like it has never been broken before."

"Amen." Fayge giggled.

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

I don't think any of us knew the date, the night of the final battle. My DA coin burned and vibrated with a simple message. _Harry's back. Come to the Room. Battle's on._

Winifred, Madison, Fayge and I all got dressed quickly and quietly. We sealed the room behind us before continuing on down the stairs and out the portrait hole.

The four of us formed a sort of train, hands on each other's shoulders, and wands at the ready as we tip toed down the staircase to the third floor corridor where the room would be. It was a sort of surreal feeling that surrounded us, as though none of the past year was really real. We were just on our way to meet some old friends. We were only going to a party. We were just some sixteen year old girls who liked to giggle over boys and whisper about the maybe future. We were only a group of fifth years.

We were just a bunch of dumb kids until the door to the room of requirement appeared from the thick stone on the wall opposite a portrait of dancing trolls.

~*^%*~*^*~*^*~

Around me students queued up to be taken out of the castle and from there to safety. The professors moved from table to table, rooting out the underage wizards and witches and sending them to be taken out. Professor McGonagall was halfway down the Gryffindor table when she spotted the four of us.

"You four, get in line. You're underage and this is no place for children." Her mouth was in a stiff line and for the first time she seemed to be more of a worried mother than an austere teacher.

"Professor please." She had to know that we weren't children anymore.

She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, breathed deeply, and then passed by us, a tightening in her eyes, and moved on to snatch up two twelve year old boys trying to hide inconspicuously amongst a group of seventh year boys.

Under the table I gripped the hands of my three best friends.

~*^*~*^*~%*^*~

I followed Colin Creevey to the clock tower, my hands shaking and my stomach jumping. With us were members of the Order of the Phoenix, three Ravenclaw seventh years and Cody and Jack. Winifred had been taken to the hospital wing to assist Madame Pomfrey and Fayge and Madison had followed Professor Hagrid to the staircases.

All around us the castle seemed to shift and groan with life. Suits of armor were marching through the halls, and desks and tables from classrooms were scurrying in all directions. The pendulum of the giant clock had never moved the air so much, and I could feel the ticking of the clock hands thrumming through my veins.

We lined up against the railing, and watched the shifting grounds. All around us the sky shimmered with magic, protective force fields formed by a thousand students, teachers, villagers, and parents.

"I'm a bit afraid." I whispered. "But mostly I'm numb. And I've got this shaky feeling inside of me."

Beside me Colin sighed. "Me too, Bella. But think about it, once we live through this, nothing will ever be able to touch us. Once we survive this we don't ever have to be afraid again."

"Come up with that all on your lonesome Colin?" I grinned over at him, knowing exactly where he got that piece of knowledge from.

"Nope." He smiled back at me, and once again I was reminded of those fleeting conversations that we had once had about our muggle fathers. "Read it in a book about some muggle soldier. But I thought it fit. And it's true, isn't it?"

"What'll you do when the war is over?" It was the question I had been asking everyone lately.

"I reckon I'll go back to taking tons of pictures, like I did when I first got here." He ran a hand through his blond hair before reaching down to grab mine.

Around us the defensive shield that covered the school shattered.

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

"_NO!" _ The scream ripped out of me as I watched Rachel fall.

Around me jets of light filled the air. Masked men were destroying everything they laid their eyes on.

It was so noisy, but so quiet at the same time.

In the muggle films, and in the cinemas, war had a soundtrack. War had a music pulsing underneath it, encouraging drama and underscoring desperation. Muggle war was full of gunshots and explosions. And music.

There was no music in this battle.

Screams filled the air, as did the sound of the castle collapsing around us. The sound of my own labored breathing filled my ears. Somewhere close a girl was crying. On the other side of the wall I could hear something roaring. The floor beneath my feat, once unmovable stone, shook.

I fired spell after spell, in all different directions, completely forgetting the rules of combat that I had been taught in Defence classes.

_Impedimenta, Stupify, Bombarda, Expulso._ They went out in all different directions, until I was eventually just screaming and hurling destruction, like everyone else.

~*^*~*^*~*%^*~

I forgot why I was fighting.

I forgot everything that had happened in the year before.

I forgot that my mother was dead and that I hadn't spoken to my father in over a year.

I forgot all the times that I had been tortured.

I forgot about the writing across my belly, forgot about the long line of numbers on the inside of my forearm, and forgot about my own elegant scrawl forever etched into the back of my hand.

I forgot everything except for this one simple truth: Once I was done fighting here I would never have to fight again. Once this final battle was over I could go and stay with my muggle father in America. I could wear sun dresses and eat unhealthy food and have a million muggle babies and take dozens of photographs and every Friday I could go to the cinemas to see a romantic comedy.

Once I was done fighting I could lay back with my friends on a cool day next to the lake, and we could talk about Witch Weekly's most charming smile winner. We could all do crossword puzzles together. We could swoon over seventh year quidditch players.

I fought so that when the war was over I could find the most untrustworthy person and break the International Statute of Secrecy.

There was nothing noble about the fighting I did. But then again I never did claim to be good at being a Gryffindor.

~*^*~*^*%~*^*~

I felt teeth digging into the flesh of my back before I ever saw him.

His eyes were yellow, animalistic, and the noises he made were grunts of satisfaction and ferocity.

I felt his pointy fingers digging into the soft flesh of my sides.

It hurt. A lot.

But I still fought. I cursed and screamed and kicked and struggled, all the while firing of jinxes into the melee before me.

Then there was a shout, and a loud whine-like groan as the untransformed werewolf's teeth and fingers were ripped away from my back.

I might have screamed, but the noise of it was swallowed up by the rest of the chaos around me.

The stone tile was so cool against my cheek when I sagged to the floor.

I was done. Finished. I didn't want to get up again, I didn't want to fight anymore. I was ready to die.

Except for someone disagreed with me on that sentiment.

"Isabella! Isabella!"

I felt the skin on my back squirming around, knitting itself back together. A wholly unpleasant experience, especially since I was ready to die.

I groaned into the neck of my ruined sweatshirt, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes for the first time that night. Bandages wound themselves around my entire torso, so tight that I doubted I would be able to breathe. But it was enough to get me sitting up, wand clutched in my sweaty palm. A hand reached out to me, to help me up.

When I was finally able to stand I saw who it was that had put me back together again.

"Violet?"

She nodded, tears making shining tracks down her face. I hugged her fiercely, remembering all those years ago on my first ever ride to Hogwarts. I remembered the laughter and the conversation and the candy shared with Colin, Bartholomew, and Violet. It felt like centuries ago.

But the next moment she was ripped out of my arms, and we were back to fighting. Around me the castle walls began to crumble.

~*^*~*^*%~*^*~

Around me people sorted through the rubble and ruins to retrieve the bodies of friends and family members. And the bodies of fallen strangers.

I sat quietly on the bottom of the grand staircase that led down into the Great Hall. I didn't have enough energy to get up and walk, my back was burning something fierce.

And I couldn't bear to see the bodies laid out where once upon a time I feasted with my friends at the beginning and end of every school year.

So instead I sat on the stair case. And waited.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

A small witch with a tightly curled perm recorded all of our names, and the names of our friends who had fought. She said she was compiling a list of everyone who had been there, before we scattered to the four corners of the earth.

Numbly I listed as many people as I could.

~*^*%~*^*~*^*~

It was hours later that I joined the recovery process. According to Professor Flitwick there were still dozens of people to be found, and the castle was in ruins. A stench filled the air and permeated all our clothes. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that someone had lit a giant mountain troll on fire.

My back burned and my muscles ached, but I kept up with the others as best I could, overturning massive chunks of wall and digging through piles of rubble.

As much as I tried to ignore my own injuries though, eventually the pain got to me and I collapsed.

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

St. Mungo's was less crowded by the time I awoke.

I was on a bed in a large room, the privacy curtains drawn tightly around me. I could hear quiet murmuring on the other side of the curtains and see shadows of people moving around the ward, but apart from that there wasn't much to be seen.

On the table to the right of my bed I saw my wand, and without thinking I twisted around to reach it…

… And immediately let out a surprised moan. Apparently twisting around was not something I was supposed to be doing.

The curtains flew open, and I found myself staring into the frightened eyes of Ginny Weasley.

"Oh thank Merlin, you're awake!"

~*^*%~*^*~*^*~

Later, much later, after the large group of DA members had finally gone home, a very dour mediwitch dosed me with two tablespoons of a viscous liquid she called Kangaroo Juice. (_It's all your stomach can handle right now Miss Antoinette._)

(I didn't bother correcting her about the name. It was all I had left of my mother, her maiden name and deep scaring across my abdomen.)

In the bed to my right a very rough looking Neville dozed, and to my left was a girl I was almost sure was named Astoria. A little further down the ward I could see Lavender Brown and the Patil twins. Across from me was Luna, happily chatting with her father, their floaty conversation barely making it to my ears. In the bed nearest the doors was a little first year I recognized from one of my many Carrow detentions.

Who I didn't see was Winifred, Madison, and Fayge. I couldn't decide if that was a good omen or bad.

"Let me through! No! Get out of my way! I want to see her NOW!" The shrill voice coming from the hall way was one I easily recognized; my heart gave a silent cry of relief when I heard her.

"Fayge!" My voice wasn't loud, but I knew it must have carried out to her when seconds later she came barreling through the doors and onto my bed. I suppressed a groan of discomfort as she threw herself on top of me.

"Oh Bella!" She pulled back from me and began to trace my features, her fingers brushing over my eyebrows, nose, and lips, patting back my hair.

Suddenly I found myself crying as I did the same, needing to confirm that one of my best friends was indeed right in front of me. We sat together on the bed, crying and holding each other for what seemed like hours. Finally I felt brave enough to ask the question at the forefront of my mind. "Who?"

I sat still as Fayge told me the names of those confirmed dead. Rachel and Will had both been cursed by masked men. Grace was crushed by a wall when a giant smashed its way through the school. Tommy and Ethan hand perished in one of the many fires that were started close to the end of the battle. Nobody had seen how Colin Creevey died. And finally Fayge told me of Winifred.

Beautiful, arrogant, sweet Winifred had died trying to save a boy from a giant spider. Winifred, who dreamed of having an enormous family in the future, who constantly fell in love with muggle boys, was dead. Winifred who had declared her hatred of butter on toast and who had insisted that the DA was a bad idea, Winifred who called me whimsical, but was actually a true romantic at heart. Winifred who held me still when my hands were sewn together and insured that Fayge would never again be hurt by the Carrows.

We cried together for the rest of the night, until the dour nurse returned with another dose of Kangaroo Juice and announced that visiting hours were over.

As Fayge was being led away I called out to her, suddenly realizing that I had heard nothing about my other roommate and best friend.

"Wait! Fayge! Madison?"

I saw Fayge stumble and pause before turning to look at me. The nurse protested and made to grab Fayge's arm, but the message was clear. "We haven't found her yet, Bella." And then she got a determined gleam in her eye. "We will though, I swear it. We'll find her."

I nodded, trying not to start crying again.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

Three months later and I was sitting in a row of seats set up for the war memorial dedication. The ceremony had been lovely, but I couldn't bring myself to go to the banquet following it, so instead I remained seated. In the newly rebuilt Great Hall, everyone who had attended was now drinking chilled pumpkin juice and comingling.

The memorial was a chunk of wall, left over from the ruins of the castle, and the polished. Over its surface were hundreds, maybe thousands of names, the names that the tiny witch had collected just after the battle had finished. They were the names of everyone that had fought against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Somewhere on that memorial was my name, as well as Fayge's and Madison's and Winifred's. It was strange to think of my own name being immortalized on the chunk of rock that would forever record the participants in the war.

I felt, rather than heard or saw, Fayge slip into the seat next to me. She rested her head on my shoulder and we just sat in peace.

Finally though, the silence was broken. "Bella?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"You're not going to stay, are you?"

"Probably not. I've been thinking about it for a while Fayge, and I think… I think I want to go stay with my dad for a bit."

She sighed, "Yeah, I guess I understand that. Just promise me you won't cut yourself off?"

"Cut myself off?"

"From me. From all of us here. From your DA buddies and from Hogwarts. If you leave, you have to promise to keep in touch. And…" She seemed hesitant to lay down this last stipulation.

"Yes?"

"Remember those things we said we'd do? After the war was over?"

"Yes."

"Well you have to promise to do them. If you're going to leave, you have to swear that you're going to eat junk food, and read whimsical novels, and go to the cinemas." Tears were leaking out of both our eyes, and I nodded shakily.

"And I'll take photographs, lots of them. And then someday when you've finished school and bought all your dresses, we'll take an airplane all the way around the world and stand on top of the Great Wall of China and hang off of the Eiffel Tower and dance on top of the Statue of Liberty." I couldn't help but think of Colin's plans, and of Winifred's. Madison's too, she still hadn't been found.

"I love you Bella."

"You too Fayge."

"Write me."

"I wasn't planning otherwise."

~*^*~*^%*~*^*~

END OF YEAR FIVE

**AN: Thanks to all of you who read! Just a few side notes, for anyone who's confused. **

**Bubbe means Grandmother in Yiddish, and so that's who Fayge's always talking about. **

**Also, I did get inspiration for a few ideas about what the students who stayed behind at Hogwarts went through while the Trio destroyed horcruxes. I read about the Carrow's nailing hands to desks in some other fic and I loved it so much that I used it. I can't really remember which fic that's from though, so if you know, tell me! **

**Please review with any questions, comments, or concerns!**


	4. How Things Change to Stay the Same

CRACK

I was on top of the Eiffel Tower.

CRACK

I was back in my mother's old flat.

CRACK

I was in the forbidden forest.

CRACK

I was inside the statue of Liberty.

CRACK

I was hanging off of a gargoyle on the side of Notre Dame.

CRACK

I was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

CRACK

I was on my father's doorstep.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

It took a minute for my dad to register what he was seeing. "Bella?" He asked, and then his knees his the ground, his hands covering his mouth, trying to hide the tears that slid out of his eyes and down the wrinkles in his face.

I dropped my bag and fell to my knees as well, just so thankful to be able to embrace my father. I buried my nose in the collar of his uniform, inhaling the familiar spicy scent of his aftershave and the accompanying smell that was just so _Charlie._

We stayed like that for what must have been minutes, with him murmuring _Bella, my baby, thought you were dead, so worried, Bella Bella Bella,_ and me choking on the words _Dad, Charlie, Daddy, so worried, missed you, so sorry sorry sorry Dad. _

Eventually he helped me up, and I carried my rucksack up to my room, the room that I had slept in every night, for every summer up until the war. The walls were still purple, the bedspread still dark with flowers. Posters of The Weird Sisters and Smashing Banshees along with Gryffindor pennants were stuck to my wall with permanent sticking charms. Pictures that I had taken at school and then brought back were still tacked onto the wall, the faces of all of my school friends smiling at me from all angles, waving and jumping up and down. In the corner was a box with a blank screen, something muggles seemed oddly fascinated with that Charlie called a Computer. And there was, of course, a telephone on the nightstand next to the alarm clock I had picked out when I was twelve.

It took all of twenty minutes to unpack my rucksack; most of my muggle clothing was still in my closet, untouched since the last time I was here, almost two years ago. I unloaded knitted sweaters into the chest of drawers and hung up the few summery dresses that I had brought with me to Hogwarts. On my bookshelf I placed my school books, and I laid out all the spare parchment and left over quills on the desk.

Finally I took out my broomstick and my chess set, both gifts from my mother attempting to make up for missed birthdays or Christmases. At the very bottom of the bag was a worn set of muggle playing cards, a gift from Phil that I had taken to carrying with me everywhere.

"Hector!" I whispered, and with a tiny POP Hector the orange Pygmy Puff dropped happily from thin air, scampering from my outstretched hand to my shoulder to the top of my head and back, his little monkeyish hands clutching tightly to what looked to be one of my dad's socks.

Together Hector and I started down the stairs; I held on to the railing and Hector chewed cheerfully on the toe of the sock.

"Hey Bells," Charlie didn't seem too surprised to see Hector on my shoulder, I had received him a week before I headed back to my fourth year at Hogwarts.

"Hey Dad." I wasn't really sure what to say to my dad. We'd always had this easy – going relationship, one where our main mode of communication was stilted conversation over dinner. I had never really talked all that much about school with my dad, though he knew vaguely the names of my friends and what my favorite subjects were. Mostly we chatted about local news, and he tried to teach me the rules of the muggle sports on the telly. Occasionally he tried to explain the bad politics of the muggle American Prime Minister to me, but that was about the extent of our conversations.

Now though, it looked like Charlie wanted to talk to me. That alone was a rather daunting concept.

He sighed, and then asked "Want to go to dinner?"

~*^*~*^*%~*^*~

The diner in town was the only restaurant type place in town that wasn't a chain, and so it was very popular amongst the locals. It also had a fascinatingly limited menu.

"A bacon cheese burger with onion rings please." Charlie raised his eyebrows at my choice of food, but nodded to the waitress before handing her his menu.

I took a large gulp of the fizzy drink before turning my eyes back towards him.

"Listen, Bella…" he started, but it looked like he was having some trouble getting the words out.

So I did the talking for him. "Dad, I don't know how much you know… about what's been going on and all, but…." I fished around in my brain, trying to come up with something to say that could fully encompass what I was trying to tell him. I sighed. This was not going well. "A lot's happened since I saw you last. Ummm, it's pretty tough to explain—" my voice started wobbling and almost instantly I could feel tears burning my eyes.

It was obviously the perfect moment for the waitress to come back with our food. I couldn't meet my dad's eyes, and so instead I stared intently at my burger and onion rings, feeling hot tears slide down my cheeks and drip from my chin.

"Bella," Dad sounded at a complete loss, and frankly I couldn't blame him. I would be terrified if my teenage daughter suddenly started crying in the middle of a public diner.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm okay, I just—" my voice was now even more unstable, but I fought valiantly to get my emotions under control. I sniffed, clearing my nose of all the gunk crying had inflicted upon it. "It's been a really long year, you know?" I finished off the sentiment with a watery chuckle, trying not to let anyone around us know that I was crying.

"You uh… You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to Bella." My dad mumbled, and he reached across the table to engulf my hand with his. "I was just so worried about you. After you didn't show up last summer, I panicked, thought it was something I'd done. Then I got that letter from your mother—"

"Mom wrote you?"

"Yeah, she explained everything as best she could, and I tried real hard to understand what was going on. Really though, after I didn't get any more news I started to figure that… figure that maybe—"

"I couldn't write. If I had written you, they would've found you, and then where would we be?" I gave another watery chuckle, and then took a deep breath, readying myself to tell the worst of everything to my dad. "Mom and Phil were killed last spring, Dad. Life hasn't been real pretty for a while. Ummm …." I took another deep breath. "There was a war. A lot of good people, my friends, died. I was in St. Mungo's… the hospital… for a while, just until I well enough to leave. And I thought I'd come here; maybe stay with you for a while? I just need a break from all the sadness and chaos. "

I felt his hand grip mine tightly, and I could hear his breathing getting heavier. I looked up to find his face an alarming shade of red verging on purple. "Dad? Dad!"

"No, Bells, just give me a minute." The words sounded forced, as though it took a great amount of restraint for him to speak calmly. Slowly his face returned to its natural color, and then his eyes moved up to meet mine, his thumb beginning to trace patterns along the back of my hand. "You're okay now, right? They didn't hurt you too badly?"

I wanted to answer him, give him the response that he was looking for, but my mind flashed back to the scarred mess that was my back, the words carved into my abdomen, the numbers tattooed onto my forearm, and the words in my own writing on the back of my hand that his thumb would be finding any minute now. So instead I reached for his hand, sandwiching it in between my own.

That was a mistake.

I didn't realize why Dad's face was turning red again until I looked down at our hands, and saw that the numbers I hadn't wanted to tell him about were clearly visible. Charlie began to splutter, his mind searching for an explanation to what he was seeing. "Is that… Is that a tattoo? Isabella Marie Swan is that a Tattoo?" I tried to snatch my hand back, but it was too late; he grabbed hold of my arm and twisted it to where he could clearly see every number on the pale flesh of my forearm.

"Dad…"

But then I saw his eyes narrow and his face spasm in understanding. And just as quickly as he had turned red, his face was drained of all color. "No." I saw his shoulders slump and his adams apple bob as he swallowed what he saw. His eyes met mine, and I knew immediately that this was more than my dad could handle. But I could also see that he wasn't going to give this up. "What else? Bella, what else have they done to you?"

"It's over now, Dad. We won, any of them that are left are being hunted down and they'll never be able to—"

"What else?" his growl cut through my rambling excuses. "What else did they do to you Bella?"

Slowly I removed my arm from his grip, and took his hands in mine. I showed his fingers the scars on the back of my hand, and I told him about having my hands sewn up and nailed to the desk. Our food sat forgotten and life in the diner bustled on around us as I told him about how I had gotten the tattoo. I described the words across my belly and the ropey purplish scars that made ridges and valleys out of my back.

When it was over he asked our waitress for to-go boxes for the untouched food. "Bells, I…" The words stuck in his throat.

"Dad, what day is today?"

"What?" He looked totally side tracked by my question, but answered it anyway. "Friday, Bells, why?"

I bit my lip before deciding to proceed. "Can we go to the Cinemas dad? To see a movie?"

For a moment he looked completely stunned, before his face twisted in confusion. And then he smiled, the widest I've ever seen him grin. "Sure Bella. We can go see a movie."

~*^%*~*^*~*^*~

The movie that was playing was a horrible romantic comedy, meant especially for middle aged women, that had absolutely no plot.

I watched the entire thing with a big, stupid grin on my face, grabbing handfuls of popcorn at a time from the tub Charlie clutched in his lap.

When it was over, he declared that I was never allowed to pick the movie again.

When we finally got home it was midnight, and I was starving. So we turned on the telly and watched the history channel over cold burgers and onion rings.

**AN : Just realized that because Renee's maiden name was Antoinette and Bella's middle name is Marie, if she kept her mother's name she'd be Isabella Marie Antoinette! Ahhh I love coincidences!**

**Let me know what you think. Please. Please. Please. Please. **

**Thanks for reading! Review now! (Please. Please. Please.)** XD


	5. Stages of Grief, Rearranged & Shortened

Charlie Swan was at a loss.

It was one in the morning, and he was on his fifth cup of coffee. (He was drinking coffee so that he wouldn't drink whiskey.)

It was one in the morning and Charlie Swan, Police Chief of Forks, Washington, was sitting fully clothed at his kitchen table, convincing himself that getting drunk was not the answer.

Logically his thinking was like this:

If he started drinking now, he'd still be drunk in the morning, when it was time for him to call into the station to take a sick day.

If he started drinking now, he'd either pass out before Bella woke up and would stay passed out most of the morning and maybe part of the afternoon or he'd be extraordinarily drunk by the time Bella woke up.

(Realistically his thinking was like this:

If he started drinking now he might never stop.)

~*^*~%*^*~*^*~

Charlie Swan was heartbroken.

It was two in the morning and he had just spent the last half an hour sitting with his hysterical daughter as she cried.

It was two in the morning and his beautiful daughter had woken up screaming. No, that was wrong. It was two in the morning and Bella had been screaming in her sleep.

He had woken her up.

She had immediately snatched her wand off the table and sent a badly aimed hex at him. A lamp in the hall way shattered.

It was then that Bella had started sobbing.

It was then that Charlie Swan had become heartbroken.

It took her half an hour to fall asleep again, but not before she had worked magic on the room. Some type of sound proofing charm.

He really wished she wouldn't do that. He really wanted to know if his daughter was screaming. He wanted to know so that he could help. So that he could comfort her, like a father should.

But it was the only way he could convince her to fall back asleep. (When he left the room he left the door cracked open, convincing himself that this way he _would_ hear her, magic mojo be damned.)

So at two in the morning Charlie Swan found himself, still fully clothed, back at the kitchen table. With more coffee, because he still couldn't let himself get drunk.

Charlie Swan was angry.

He was disgusted.

He was furious.

The coffee was no longer effective.

He was no longer being rational.

So at three in the morning, while the rest of his neighbors in the tiny town of Forks slept peacefully in their beds, Charlie Swan went to the downstairs hall closet.

At three in the morning, while the rest of the State of Washington slept or frantically studied or partied (all so naïve), Charlie Swan grabbed the aluminum baseball bat that had been a Christmas present from his best friend and headed out the door.

Charlie Swan was angry.

He was disgusted.

He was furious.

He was also not drunk. (If he had been he would've had a gun, not a baseball bat.)

(In the back of his head though, he thought that beating something with a baseball bat would probably be more satisfying anyway.)

Charlie Swan wasn't thinking about much aside from how _angry_ he was.

_She had said there were scars. What he didn't understand was that these were scars like he had never seen before. Once upon a time he had been in a war, the muggle kind, and he had seen scars. He thought he had seen scars. He even had a few, small speckles that represented the shrapnel that had got him out of the army and into the life of a small town cop. He thought that was what the scars of war looked like. That was a lie._

He swung the bat, felt the vibrations of its connection roll down his body. The sound it made against the trunk of the tree was loud, sharp. Satisfying.

_Down his daughters back were thick purple-red ridges. Like someone had pulled ropes underneath her skin and left them there. In other places it was like someone had taken a jagged ice-cream scoop, dug into her flesh. There were bits of her missing between the ridges, covered by shiny red skin. _

He swung again, putting every bit of himself behind the bat. Leaves and small twigs showered down on him and in the very back corner of his mind he wondered what the neighbors would think about the steady staccato sound of aluminum bat connecting with tree at three in the morning.

_In his daughter, where her back started turning into fleshy side, was a set of perfect teeth marks. Bella saw him see them and she frantically assured him that __he__ was safe. That she wouldn't turn into a monster every full moon 'Daddy you're safe'. And he wanted to laugh manically, ask her if she really thought that __that__ was what he had been worried about. _

He continued to swing away at the tree. Unaware that a car was cruising quietly down the street.

"Chief?"

The voice was startling and he spun on his heel, looking for the speaker.

Carlisle Cullen was half way out of his car, looking very concerned.

Charlie Swan stood by the tree in his front yard, his baseball bat hanging limply by his side.

"Hey Doctor Cullen,"

"Hello Chief Swan,"

"Heading to the hospital?"

"Heading home actually. It was my turn to take the late night shift."

"Ah."

"Rough night?"

"You have no idea." And then a thought struck Charlie Swan. Doctor Carlisle Cullen had five teenagers, all of them from foster care. He might actually know what to do. "Actually… Do you want to come in for coffee?"

"Sure." Carlisle Cullen decided to pretend that Chief of Police Charlie Swan was not standing in his yard holding a baseball bat at close to four in the morning. Instead he pretended that everything was normal.

So the Doctor turned off his car, shut the door, locked it, and then followed the bat-toting Charlie Swan up the steps to the porch and through the door to the kitchen.

~*^*~*%^*~*^*~

**AN: Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading! PLEASE REVIEW! **


	6. Nightmares and New Friends

After four days of living with Charlie I'd gotten good at muffling my screams. The quilt on my bed had a funny musk to it, a sort of damp sweetness that tasted very substantial when it was shoved in my mouth.

I shouldn't have known that, but really there was no helping it.

Every morning for the past four days (really it was closer to afternoon by the time I got up) I braided my hair back, brushed my teeth, and went down to the kitchen. Dad was always there, reading a paper over a cup of coffee. I got myself a bowl and poured a serving of what he referred to as "cereal". It tasted horrid, and Dad said I was welcome to have toast or eggs, but the muggle appliances in the kitchen still terrified me.

After breakfast I returned to my room where I would doze and read for the better part of the day. Sometimes, when I thought I couldn't stand the stillness any longer, I ran endless circles in the backyard, barefooted. Dad said I was welcome to run around the neighborhood, but again, something held me back.

It was a frustratingly easy routine to fall into. Sleep, scream, wake, brush, eat, read, doze, run, repeat.

Then the fifth day dawned.

On the morning of the fifth day when I awoke, heavy quilt in my mouth, I couldn't fend off the nausea that had been building for days.

_Screams and people dying and right in front of me __**right in front of me **__Henry Peaks, a tiny first year is kneeling on the ground. I don't know what curse it is that's done this, but he's coughing heavy and wet and choking on his intestines, it makes a sick splattering sound as it hits the floor and I __**can't help him**__ and __**he wasn't even supposed to be here**__, just eleven years old and he shouldn't be here. _

I broke land-speed records to make it to the W.C. in time.

My wet coughing echoed his as the bile made its way out of me. The taste of it was sour and that only made me wretch and choke more. The porcelain of the commode was cool against my palms and my skin felt far too hot on the inside and far too cool on the outside.

Around me the bathroom started to swirl and the tile began to tilt. There was a foul taste in my mouth and a yellow haze to my vision.

"Bells? Bells?" From a distance I heard my dad's frantic voice.

"No, dad I'm fine I'm fine,"

_Helen's skin is blistering before my eyes, cracking and turning red and angry. Any second now she is going to split like an overripe fruit, her skin is drying and shrinking but her insides are swelling with a fierce heat. I don't want to see so I turn my back on her. _

I felt my dad's hot palms brush against my forehead as if checking for fever, and then pull back my hair, keeping it out of the line of fire. I wanted to tell him _thank you_, wanted to tell him to _go away and leave me alone, _but my stomach lurched and I began the wet coughing again.

"Oh Bella," My dad's whisper sounded sad, as if his heart was breaking as he held me over the toilet.

"No daddy, I'm fine, please just—" my voice was shaky and high pitched. Charlie ignored me and continued to hold my hair and pat my back. The motion of it set me off again, and I vomited as sobs shook my entire body.

*(^^ HUMAN ^^)*

"Hey Bella,"

"Hey Dad,"

It was almost as if the morning fiasco hadn't occurred when I ventured downstairs after a good hot shower and a thorough brushing of my teeth and hair. My red breakfast bowl was sitting in the sink, exactly where I had left it last night, and so I grabbed it and poured myself a bowl of Wheaties.

At the table my dad switched sections of the morning paper from local to sports. He looked uncomfortable, and I could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he mulled over the best way to approach the topic of my sanity.

The silence was suffocating, and so I made the decision to break it before he could.

"Listen, Dad, I'm sorry about… this morning." I kept my vision trained on the soggy flakes of my breakfast, unable to look him in the eye. "It was just a bad nightmare."

Charlie looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit it back and ruffled his paper before folding it to the table. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he got together what he wanted to say.

"Have you been out of the house at all the past week Bells?"

The question immediately took me off guard. I started to answer yes, yes I had gone out-side to run circles in the backyard between the woods and the house, but I knew that that wasn't what Dad meant. Dad meant had I been out-side of the property line, had I been anywhere more than a dozen meters away from the house.

"No," The answer made me scowl in a way that was probably extremely childish.

Charlie sighed. "A friend of mine has kids around your age, nice, well behaved kids. Two of them are girls, and… well… you do need some new clothes and ahh… supplies." He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment and I could see a tinge of pink underneath the weathered tan of his cheeks.

"I don't need new clothes!" I protested, choosing the easiest part of his statement to deal with first while ignoring entirely his comment about me needing 'supplies'. Even as the words came out of my mouth though, I knew Charlie was right. I had very few muggle clothes, mostly because the only time I ever wore them was during summer break when I stayed with him. The muggle clothes I did have were mostly too small for me. I could argue that a lot of the clothes I wore in the wizarding world would probably do just fine, but that was stretching the truth at best.

Charlie just smirked a bit, as though he knew exactly what was going through my head.

So I picked a different angle of attack. "So what, you're making play dates for me then, Dad? I am capable of making my own friends you know!" That was bollocks as well, and we both knew it immediately.

Dad picked the following silence to place his final argument. "Dr. Cullen and his wife are very kind people, very respected in the community and I haven't had any trouble with the kids. In fact Alice, the youngest, has already called to ask if you wanna go out with her and her sister sometime." The look on his face was triumphant, but I had to sulk for a minute before finally waving the white flag.

"Okay, fine," I sighed.

Charlie looked shocked that I hadn't put up more of a fight. "Really? Just like that?"

"Yeah, why not?" I spoke around mouthfuls of Wheatie mush. It was disgusting. I really needed to learn how to work a toaster. "One of the healers at St. Mungo's told me I ought to make friends with people who had nothing to do with the war, so I might as well cozy up to a bunch of do-gooding muggles."

"Ahh. Well good. I'll get you the number to call."

"Call? Like with a fellybone?" I looked up confusedly.

"Oh god." Dad muttered. "I shouldn't let you out in public."

"Only joking Daddy!" I grinned.

**AN: Finally! Another Chapter! Whew! Sorry for the wait guys. **

**So anyways, please REVIEW! Let me know what you think, what I did wrong, if you like it ect. THANKS! ~Rose. (ps. Please review. Please review. Obviously I am not above shameless begging!)**


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